


OATHBREAKERS

by loosenoodlepoodledoodle



Series: The Dustbin of History [9]
Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Allegory, Gen, Parody, Satire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:14:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28746012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosenoodlepoodledoodle/pseuds/loosenoodlepoodledoodle
Summary: AOC rests her eyes for a moment, only to be plunged into a nightmare, albeit one that is actually a reprieve from the looming horrors of past and near-present days.
Series: The Dustbin of History [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007061
Kudos: 2





	OATHBREAKERS

**Author's Note:**

> I really wasn't planning on writing another goddamn anti-Trump parody, but it's hell on earth once again and this is my lame-ass coping strategy...

Once upon a time, in the calm between shitstorms, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez was back in her Congressional office, sitting at her desk for only a moment’s rest. She closed her eyes, and suddenly she was awake no more.

_Where am I?_ she thought.

She was standing in her office, next to her desk. The windows, and even part of the wall, were broken wide open. Snow fell gently from the sky, which was clear and dark, and all that could be seen through it was a flickering orange glow illuminating dead trees and ruined buildings.

AOC tore herself away from the view, and upon looking at her desk, and the contents of the chair behind it, tried to scream, only find that she had no voice.

She saw herself, dead, a set of bitemarks oozing venom in her neck. A serpent with the face of Lauren Boebert slithered down from the chair, and, hissing, made its way through shattered doors to the hall beyond. AOC followed, bodiless.

Here there were more serpents, with names like Louis Gohmert, Devin Nunes, and Jim Jordan, and over a hundred more. They ignored AOC, for she was invisible to them, and silent as the grave.

At the end of the hall was a set of stairs, different from what AOC remembered, and they led right to the main lobby. Shadows stalked about menacingly, shades of men that had been cursed for eternity for their betrayal. They were only just visible to her, and only because of the orange light pouring in from the doors outside.

As she approached the door, she passed a painting that normally would be hanging elsewhere. It was of President Obama. His eyes glistening with tears, he voiced his regret.

“I should’ve dealt with them more harshly. If only had had dealt with them more harshly…”

She crossed the threshold, and was outside. She found that it wasn’t snowing anymore, it was ashfall. Looking around, she saw only one place to go, only one source of the orange light.

It was the White House.

***

She arrived improbably fast, passing through the ghosts inside, until she found one in particular, the spark. Donald Trump sat in front of his television set, all alone, and the anger AOC felt was tempered only at her despair for the nation.

_If only he had had a conscience, for just one moment…_

She would have given anything then, to take everything back, to make things whole again. Even her own life, if at that moment she could have given it. But then, she had an idea.

“I wish…I wish…I wish you were a human being, on that day…”

The orange unlight began to diminish. In the darkness, AOC felt something change.

Time ran backward.

Now she found herself cast back into the light, only stubborn Ivanka staying at her daddy’s side, and unable to hide even her disgust. AOC was astonished.

_How is this possible? How—no, I can’t waste this chance!_

She pressed her ethereal hand against Trump’s cold, cruel hard, and felt her humanity seeping into him. The void inside him was deep and nigh impenetrable, and right when she was on the brink of another undeath she felt it taper, and stabilize.

“Oh, huh?” Trump blinked stupidly.

“W-what is it, Daddy?” asked Ivanka.

“Wait a minute…they’re beating up cops?”

A tear graced Ivanka’s cheek. “Yes they are, Daddy.”

Trump slowly stood up. “They’ve got clubs, and guns.”

Ivanka nodded, so proud of her dumb daddy.

“This is my fault. This is _my_ fault!”

“Daddy!” cried out Ivanka, torn between fear and something superficially resembling love.

“I’ve got to have a press conference! Got to call them off!”

AOC found herself bound to Trump, the fat fuck, as he hurried to get in front of a camera.

“Attention, everyone! I concede the election to Joe Biden, and I withdraw my claims of voter fraud.”

A gasp passed over the reporters present.

“To those of my supporters, who still want to fight: I lied! I made it up! And you want to know how you can tell?”

The reporters, the only ones listening, were all ears.

“My people and I made lots of big claims, on camera and on Twitter. But we had no evidence for them, and that’s why we never made those claims in court. Because lying to a court is perjury, which is a crime. But lying to you gullible marks is no crime at all.”

Even the filthy MAGAS running amok had to stop and listen.

“The so-called steal is made-up, the Q thing is made-up. And you know, personally, I think the Oath Keepers are made-up.”

One intrepid reporter was brave enough to ask, “What do you mean? They’re all fucking over there right now!”

Trump shrugged. “They claim to have taken oaths to uphold the Constitution, but right now they are, er, uh, _down-holding_ , the Constitution.”

Nobody laughed.

“Anyway, since they’ve broken their so-called oaths, they’re not really Oath Keepers, they’re Oathbreakers!”

As the press was amazed by this one ever so slightly clever remark on Trump’s part, they were beside themselves. AOC felt this was a good time to go.

“Afterlife, here I come,” she said to no one in particular.

***

But she only woke up.

_What? Oh, what a weird dream…_

Checking the time, she could see that a mere five minutes at most had passed. And while she was swiftly forgetting the contents of that dream, one thing about it remained clear.

_“Oathbreakers…”_

And so when The Troubles began in earnest, AOC had ready an epithet that was as good a weapon as any in a war of minds; in a war between Truth and Delusion.

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, fuck those guys. Fucking hypocrites...
> 
> *Lemme explain the references: the broken wall/window imagery is from King's Landing, like the prediction of its destruction. The shades in the lobby are the Oathbreakers, not just the assholes but also it's a reference to the Dead Men of Dunharrow from The Return of the King. Finally, The Troubles was the thirty or so years long war in Northern Ireland. People are saying that if the right-wing militias start picking fights (actual combat), the resulting war will be more like The Troubles than the old Civil War. So there's a dire prediction for you.


End file.
